If there hadn't been war
by scarlet dragon
Summary: What if Walter's childhood (or part of it) had been in Germany? With his gipsy features? dangerous to write, I know. chapter four. the beginning of a lot of flashbacks!R
1. intro

If there hadn't been war 

Walter Kum Dorne was just four years old, when he heard the door slam downstairs. His father was home! Finally. All exited, he ran down the stairs in his peejay's to see if he had brought anything home with him, to play with. He loved his father very much, although he was hardly ever home. When the young boy entered the kitchen, however, the scene was altogether not pleasant. His father and mother were both seated at the kitchen table, grim looks on their faces. His father sipped his glass of brandy, his mother was staring into space. Neither of them noticed Walter, and he dared not speak. At last, mother spoke.

'We can't stay here, Johan. What if they come for us…me and Walter? What are you going to do, hmm? Protect us with your bare hands?'

Walter's father looked gloomy.

'If necessary. And besides, maybe it will not turn out so bad. After all, I am a government official. They wouldn't dare do anything to my family.' He said this last thing resolutely, but the boy sensed doubt in his fathers voice.

'Please, Johan,' the woman pleaded 'let's just go to England, or America. At least there, we're safe.'

But her husband's mind was set.

'We're staying.'

He stood up, and turned on the radio. In stead of the usual program, there was a voice. It rang through the room like a bell. It was January, 1933, and life was about to change for Walter and those closest to him.


	2. School and a new threat

Disclaimer: Walter's not mine, whatever characters from Hellsing will show up aren't mine either.

**_School and a new threat_**

Walter was very excited. Today, he would go to school for the first time. His mother had taken him shopping, and he was now in possession of what he thought was the most beautiful book bag in the entire history of mankind. He stood in front of a mirror with his treasure, but was somewhat disappointed with the rest of him. His hair had been cut according to school regulations, short. Really short. Walter felt naked, being used to having his hair longer than that. His mother laughed at the expressions he made in the mirror.

'You shouldn't make faces like that, Walter! It isn't that bad!'

'Oh yes, it is! I feel like a cactus!' The boy answered. 

His mother smiled at him. Not as she used to, though. Her smile had this worried expression it. She caught the boy staring at her, and quickly looked away.

'We have to go now.' She said.

Walter held his mother's hand as they walked to school. It was a large building, overlooking the dirty pavement below it, that was now filled with lots of restless children. Walter look around to see if there was anyone he knew in the crowd. He spotted a rather small boy, like himself, with the exact same haircut standing in the corner. He let go of his mother's hand as he made a beeline for his short-haired companion.

'Hey, Heinrich! It's me! Walter!' The boy called Heinrich looked up, smiled and waved.

'Hello, Walter, where have you been? I thought you weren't going to show!'

'For the first day of school? How could I miss it?' the boys were chatting happily with each other, till the bell rang.

As the students were slowly making their way inside the building, Walter kissed his goodbye's to his mom. When he and Heinrich entered the classroom, most of the good spots had already been taken. The only two vacant seats were each on a different side of the classroom. Walter and his friend really wanted to sit next to each other, so they asked one of the boys who was sitting in a bench by himself, if he would move. The boy gave them a very dirty look. As he got up, he whispered something in Heinrich's ear. The boy blushed, but said nothing and sat down next to Walter with a scared look on his face. 

'What did that guy say to you?'

'Nothing. Don't ask.'

Walter sighed, and opened his math-book. The lesson passed without other such oddities occurring, but Walter was on his guard. His father had taught him, that things weren't always as they seemed and the young boy had taken this to heart. When it was finally time for a break, and the students went outside to eat their lunch, Walter dragged Heinrich with him to a corner of the playground.

'I demand to know what that guy said to you, Hein!' Heinrich blushed and looked away.

'I already told you, it's not important!' 

Walter grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him.

'Answer me! Did he say something nasty to you?' Finally. Heinrich caved in under all the pressure. The boy began to cry.

'He, he said that…that he wouldn't hurt me now because of your father being such an important politician and all that. But, if he ever caught me alone, he would, he…'

Walter sat down on a nearby bench. He couldn't believe it.

'…but that's not all.' his friend continued, now a bit more peaceful,' he said I was a filthy yew, and didn't deserve to live. Walter, I'm scared! What if they hurt my father, and take him away? What will mother do without him? I'M AFRAID!' Heinrich began to cry again. Walter approached his friend, and motioned for him to sit down on the bench. They sat next to each other for a while, till recess was over.

'I will let nothing happen to you, Heinrich! You are my friend, and I will not let you get hurt! Understood?'

Heinrich nodded.

'Thanks, Walter! You're a real friend.'

They made their way to the classroom silently. Walter hated to admit it, but he was just as afraid as Heinrich.


	3. for better, for worse

_A/N: Evil is interesting… until it touches you, and you feel you can taste it._ For better, for worse 

****

Walter awoke in the middle of the night, cold sweat clinging to his back. He breathed deeply a couple of times, and looked around a bit while his eyes were adjusting to the light, or lack thereof. He heard faint noises coming from outside. Restless noises. They made him restless, at least. 

Heinrich! 

Now, he remembered. 

They had taken Heinrich with them! 

Hold on, now! That had only been a dream. Hadn't it? As far as Walter knew, it had been a dream. But still…

The noises outside grew stronger, and Walter could make out what seemed to be human voices. Very unfriendly human voices. He looked outside, to see German soldiers  knocking on doors, breaking in. people were dragged out of their houses. Walter was fascinated by this. Then he saw two of the soldiers making their way towards his house. Walter saw them knocking on the door.

'AUFMACHEN!'

Walter jumped out of his bed, and straight for his bedroom door. He was just in time to see his father opening it. The soldiers seemed to be a bit stunned to find him there. Odd. They regained their fervour soon enough, however, and looked as the man contempt.

'We know of that Gypsy-whore you have wed, and we are here to make sure she gets what's coming to her!' Walter's father was shocked, but kept it safely hidden within his own head. He looked at the two men with contempt.

'how dare you speak to a man of such high rank as myself? THE NERVE OF SUCH MALAPERT FOOLS!' The soldiers seemed slightly taken aback by this, then the older one of the two spoke.

'We are here to take your wife, high government official or no. Now, you could make it less difficult for us. Even better, to make it less difficult for yourself. That way, you won't have to suffer the indignity when we drag your wife out into the street, with you still clinging to her nightly gown like a whimpering child!'

The last words were spoken in so very condescending a manner, that Walter's father would have surely attacked them, if it hadn't been for the boy that came running down the stairs, screaming obscenities at the two soldiers. Instead, he grabbed Walter, who was still shouting and fighting back tears.

'THOSE FUCKING CUNTS ARE NOT TAKING MOTHER! YOU BUNCH OF FUCKING TARTS!' his father was shocked, and not in the least because he was wondering where the hell the boy had picked this up. He had certainly never used those phrases. Regaining his wits, he slapped his son across the face. Walter stopped immediately and looked at his father with such utter amazement it would've been humorous, if it wasn't for the position they were in. 

'… And we shall have to take he boy too! He is his mother's son, and therefore just as unworthy of life as she is!' The older soldier continued.

Now Johan Friedrich Ddollneazz had reached his boiling-point. He was just about to land the first punch, when the clear voice of his wife sounded from behind him.

'Leave the boy alone! He does not have Romany blood in him. He isn't even mine! One of my husband's mistresses gave birth to him, and left him on our doorstep with a note, to "please take care of him, for I am in lack of proper funding". That woman cared not for him, and neither do I. But to say he is one of ours, that would do this bastard too much credit.'

Walter opened his mouth to speak, but his father prevented him from doing so. The boy wept silently as his mother made her way to the door. There, she stood still and looked at the two soldiers with contempt.

'I am Carmelita Francesca De Gapo, and I shall follow you with my head held high! Remember this, soldiers. This is Romany-pride, and you shall not break it, nor my spirit fall.' 

The soldiers were baffled, to say the least. 

Then they took her away. Walter tried to scream, but his mouth was covered with the hand of his father. 

Sometimes, Walter would wake up in the middle of the night, tasting the sweat and smelling the odour that radiated from his fathers hand. The helplessness. The hopelessness of it all. He reached for her, his entire being reached for her. But there was no reply, and the yearning passed. 

His father had explained to him at a later hour, that his mother had said those nasty thing about him in order to rescue him. But it took a long time for Walter to forgive her for that. 

A very long time, he had thought to himself that she could at least have given him a sign. 

But she hadn't. 

The risk, you see.


	4. the beginning of the end

_A/N this takes place three months before they take Walter's mother away._ The beginning of the end 

****

'WALTER DDOLLNEAZZ! GET OUT OF THE BASEMENT THIS INSTANT!'

A big, angry-looking woman stood in the doorway. She looked down on a scrawny little boy with green eyes, dark hair and the cook's favourite pan draped on his head like a helmet.

'You shall not defeat me, evil demon of the night! I am the invincible sir Walter, and with my mallet of doom I shall put an end to your evil ways!' As he was saying this, the young boy lifted a candle as big as him to ward of the "demon". 

The woman laughed.

'Well, honourable sir Walter, I need my pan to cook dinner in. Don't you want to eat after such an ordeal? Facing demons and all!' The honourable sir Walter thought about this a while, then agreed and handed cook her pan. She bowed.

'Thank you. Now go and play outside with Heinrich. And try not to make such a fuss!'

The boy bowed in compliance, and ran outside to look for his friend. He passed his mother on the way out. He looked at lot like her; the same raven-black hair and green eyes. She even had the same way of looking at people she didn't trust. It was a short head-movement they both did, and usually simultaneously. Walter's father had often laughed at them for it, because it looked a bit odd. 

There was another thing that they had in common, but that one was rarely noticed and hardly ever, or never, mentioned. They were both fast. Really fast. So fast, it was unnatural, though it came natural to them. It only happened when something was urgent and they had no other choice. 

That evening, his mother had taken Walter to the attic. It took an entire floor, and was filled with all kinds of objects. Paintings, chairs, boxes and crates of every shape and size. And books, lots of books. Some of them recent, others a few centuries old. The Ddollneazz family were known throughout the land for their extensive library, and there was not enough space to house all the books properly and give them the respect they deserve. They were kept dry and safe, though, and that was as good as anything. 

Walter and his mother had visited this place frequently. They went there often, because Walter liked to play with the little soldiers that were stashed there in a small cardboard box. He would put them in a row, and try and tip them over using a wooden bead the size of a ping-pong ball. He would play with his mother or Heinrich. The first person to tip over all the soldiers of the other player would be the winner. Though, of course, they would often accuse each other of cheating, which would lead to some small skirmishes and the cook yelling at them to "please stop all the damn racket!" 

This time was different, though. His mother would take Walter with her to a small space in the attic, separated from the rest of the attic by a wall. Walter had always been forbidden to open the trunk that was standing there. His mother had never told him why, but Walter suspected it had something to do with her past. She never talked about it much, if at all only a few incoherent words. As they were standing before the trunk, his mother looked at him.

'Walter, I have never allowed you to open this trunk, because its content would've made mo sense to you. But you are older and wiser now, I can see that. You must promise me one thing, though. Will you do that?'

The boy nodded. His mother looked at him. This would be important. She hoped he would understand. She had too little time to explain things fully.

'What lies in this trunk must never be used for personal gain of any kind. Now swear you will never use it as such!'

The boy took a deep breath.

'I promise I will never use what is in that trunk for personal gain.'

Now, it was his mother's turn to breath deeply. She took off the necklace that she always wore. As Walter looked at it, he saw there was some kind of bar dangling from it. A very special one, though, with odd trenches here and there. His mother stuck it the lock, turned it and opened the trunk. As Walter looked inside it, he saw a lot of books. No, not books, more like journals. Walter picked one from the trunk, blew off some of the dust, sneezed, and opened it. Inside it were odd letters he couldn't decipher. Odd markings. He looked at his mother.

'What do they say, mother?'

'These are journals of your and my ancestors, Walter. They had, you could say, very interesting careers. They hunted vampires…'

She held her breath, and looked at the boy to see how he would take this strange news.

'…Interesting.' The boy answered.' Were you one?'

This threw her off balance a bit, but she continued.

'For a short while, yes. Then I married your father and I had you. I stopped hunting them because I had a family to look after.'

 Walter seemed somewhat disappointed at this. His mother started putting journals aside, and taking some out as if looking for something. After the dust had settled down, Walter saw his mother holding a small journal. Part of it seemed to be covered with a red substance. Blood! Walter thought to himself. His mother saw the look in his eyes.

'Yes, it's blood. One of our ancestors carried this with him while escorting a crate to its destination. They were ordered to defend the crate until sundown. Then, the count could take care of himself.'

'Sounds like that story, where the gypsies try to protect count Dracula from his hunters.' Walter commented. His mother looked him in the eyes.

'Exactly.'

Walter's mouth hung open in awe.

'You mean... that's not just a story?' 

His mother shook her head.

'No, it isn't. In fact, the truth is different. The story was altered, the ending drastically changed. In fact, the count survived…'

'…No, he couldn't have…He was stabbed in the heart!'

'No. Our ancestor writes here he was stabbed above it, in his left-shoulder. He killed his opponents, but took some heavy blows while doing so. When van Hellsing finally reached the castle, his friends were dead. As the count lay there, half unconscious, van Hellsing bound him to his family. It was dangerous, but the only alternative he had, opposite killing Dracula. He didn't want to kill the count, monster or not. It wasn't in his nature to kill. He was a doctor, after all, and his interests lay in study. The count was his new material and he treated him as such. What happened after van Hellsing took the count with him is unknown to us. Our ancestor is the only one of the gypsies that survived the battle. They found his body in the woods some days later. The wolves had found him first, killed him and partly eaten him. They found this journal among the remains…'

Walter looked at his mother with utter amazement. She took some time regaining her wits, then continued…

'…Our ancestors have lived in Romania for years. My great-grandmother, my grandmother, my mother and I were born there. We were natural fighters. It runs through our vanes and gives us strength. Some of us were born with a gift, like your grandmother, my mother. The unnatural speed we have comes from her. As for another gift…'

She had now finished unpacking the trunk, and removed a loose panel from the bottom. Underneath lay a pair of strange gloves. They had no tips on them, but some strange metal surrounded the bases of the fingers. Where those…wires? Walter looked at them in wonder, as his mother carefully picked them up and put them on. She seemed to be full of new energy as she looked at the gloves that were now on her hands. She gave Walter a mischievous smile.

'I'll show you what they can do…'

Walter looked on in amazement as a porcelain doll at the other end of the attic was shattered to pieces. He gave a small scream of delight and astonishment, as his mother took the gloves off again and put them back in their hideout. She put all the journals back into the trunk, and closed it.

'There. Now let's get something to eat, I'm starving!' She said, as she took Walter by the hand.

' Will I ever learn to do that, mum? Will you teach me?'

'Certainly dear. We'll start tomorrow.'

Walter couldn't wait.


End file.
